


The Farther I Fall I'm Beside You

by GotTheSilver



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Hopeful Ending, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-30
Updated: 2013-05-30
Packaged: 2017-12-13 09:57:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/822975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GotTheSilver/pseuds/GotTheSilver
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If there's one thing Derek Hale knows, it's that he's not a good person.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Farther I Fall I'm Beside You

**Author's Note:**

> I really don't know where this came from.
> 
> Derek Hale has issues.
> 
> Additional warnings for self harm (though, done by a werewolf, so no lasting damage) and vague thoughts of suicide by cop.
> 
> Title from Nine Inch Nails - We're In This Together

Derek hates himself. Hates that he loves how Stiles will bend for him, the noises Stiles makes when he presses him against the mattress. When he’s alone, when Stiles is at school, he sits with his head in his hands and tells himself what a terrible person he is. He smashes glass with his fists and watches the cuts close up underneath the blood. Sometimes he draws lines down his arms with the shards, watches the slow trickles of blood and wishes his body let him bleed long enough for him to feel it, for him to feel anything other than this.

Stiles doesn’t get it. He pushes all the time, pushes against the boundaries Derek tried so hard to build up. Stiles thinks that this is okay, that there’s nothing _wrong_ with what Derek’s doing to him. Maybe he thinks this is love. Derek can’t tell what love is anymore, thinks that the part of him that knew burnt up in the fire. That it’s as charred and broken as the remains of his house.

The others know what goes on between him and Stiles. He sees the look on Boyd’s face before he leaves the loft, knows that he’s judging him. Stiles tells him that when Scott tries to talk to him about it, he avoids all the questions. Says that he doesn’t want to share this. Apparently he thinks there is something to share. Derek isn’t sure there is, has no idea what he has to offer Stiles apart from his body.

His body is all he’s ever been good for. A weapon, a fucktoy, a distraction. Derek knows what he looks like and he’s used it, used it well. He could _smell_ it on Stiles the first time Stiles walked in on him working out, and he’d known it would end badly. That if Stiles ever gave in and acted on his desire, Derek would ruin him.

He has ruined him. Stiles is covered in Derek’s marks, in Derek’s scent. There’s no part of him that hasn’t been touched by the ashes that follow every move Derek makes.

Stiles comes to him now, pushes him against walls and kisses him desperately. Derek feels the vibrations under his skin as Stiles presses his fingers against every inch of Derek’s body. It’s changing, whatever it is that Stiles think they have, and Derek’s lost in it. There’s things that he doesn’t understand. He doesn’t understand why Stiles _stays_ after they fuck, doesn’t understand why he wants to talk, why he thinks this is more than it is.

Because it’s not. It can’t be.

Derek can’t deal with this if it’s something real. He doesn’t know how. He’s not the prince, not the happy ending; he’s the monster under the bed, the bad man lurking in the shadows. If there’s one thing Derek is sure of, it’s that he’s not a good person. He does what he needs to in order to survive. But now there’s Stiles and he can’t factor him into this, into his life. Stiles is the first thing he’s wanted that isn’t darkness, but he’ll destroy him. He will. Derek will take Stiles’ bright future and burn it to the ground.

He’s tried to tell Stiles this, has yelled at him, has pushed him away, but Stiles won’t listen. Stiles keeps coming back, won’t leave Derek alone, won’t understand that Derek is the worst thing to happen in his life. Derek has visions of the Sheriff finding out about werewolves, finding out about what Derek does to his son, loading up his gun with wolfsbane bullets and coming after him. He’d let him do it. He’d deserve it.

When he’d told Stiles that, Stiles’ face had gone white. He’d crawled onto Derek’s lap and kissed his unyielding face, telling him that he wouldn’t deserve it. Stiles’ heart hadn’t skipped, he’d truly believed that Derek wouldn’t deserve the wrath of an angry father. Derek can’t understand that, it’s the very least of what he deserves.

Isaac corners him one night. Asks him if he loves Stiles. Derek would swear he feels his heart stop. Isaac frowns and walks away before Derek answers. Love? He has no idea what that means to him. No idea what it means to Stiles. It’s not a word Stiles has ever used around him. The only people Stiles has ever talked about loving are Scott, his father, and Lydia. Not Derek. Never Derek. And he knows why.

Stiles’ father goes away to a police conference and Stiles invites Derek over. They fuck in Stiles’ childhood bed, their bodies barely fitting on it. He licks, sucks, fingers and fucks Stiles so many times that he loses count. Stiles is sprawled out half asleep when Derek has three fingers buried inside him, his tongue licking around them, and he almost misses it, almost misses what Stiles says.

Stiles says I love you and Derek freezes.

He pulls his fingers out, ignoring the sudden yelp from Stiles, and he’s across the room by Stiles’ chest of drawers before he realises what’s happened. Stiles rolls onto his back, wraps the sheets around his waist and sits on the bed. His eyes are wide and he’s asking Derek what’s wrong, what he did. Derek doesn’t know how to explain that it’s not him, it’s never been him. That it’s Derek, that everything that has gone wrong is Derek, always has been Derek.

Stiles makes a small, broken noise, and that’s when Derek realises he’s been saying those words out loud. He curls in on himself as Stiles approaches. It’s the most canine thing he’s ever done and somehow it seems appropriate. Stiles is kneeling now, close to him, tentatively touching Derek’s arm, asking if he’s allowed. Derek wants to say yes, but doesn’t know how. It’s possible that his silence is consent because Stiles doesn’t pull away. He strokes Derek’s arm before becoming bolder and wrapping his arms around him, tugging at Derek until he’s leaning against Stiles’ chest.

For all his supernatural strength, Derek has never felt so weak.

He’s an awful person. A manipulative, cruel, violent asshole who got his entire family killed. That’s who he is. He tells Stiles this, has told Stiles this, and still Stiles won’t run. Derek is constantly confused by Stiles’ insistence on wanting to be with him.

Stiles doesn’t let go of him. They’re a pile of sweat, lube and come and Stiles never lets go of him, even when his legs cramp and he has to switch positions. He’s always touching Derek.

It feels like something Derek forgot how to feel a long time ago.

Stiles takes them to the bathroom, cleans them up. He finds blankets and pillows and makes a fort on the floor, pulling Derek down with him. Derek’s so tired, so tired of running, so tired of _hurting_ , that he gives in to Stiles’ gentle touches. Gives in to the fact that Stiles isn’t letting him leave, isn’t leaving him. Gives in and closes his eyes, Stiles wrapped around him like a barnacle.

He still hates himself for doing this to Stiles. For dragging him down to Derek’s level, for marking him with bites and scratches. But he’s starting to think that maybe if Stiles wanted to go, he would. That maybe Stiles has made his choice, and his choice is to be with Derek.

And maybe, maybe, his life could be a little less horrific if he lets himself be Stiles’ choice.


End file.
